


5 Signs Your Spouse is a Vampire

by HQ_Wingster



Series: Mr. and Mr. Alpha [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Love Bites, M/M, Marking, Not Beta Read, Romantic Gestures, Story within a Story, True Love, Understanding, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 14:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13812888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQ_Wingster/pseuds/HQ_Wingster
Summary: During their past year of marriage, Yuuri remembered moments where he could safely say that Viktor was a vampire. He has yet to find Viktor sleeping in a coffin but often, he found that his husband slept in a coffin of his own design when he needed a void to curl in.





	5 Signs Your Spouse is a Vampire

**Author's Note:**

> This beautiful fic is inspired by this [text post challenge](https://yuuris-piano.tumblr.com/post/171294063101/d2diamond-kingkilling-and-stormlight-person) I found on my Tumblr

**1\. A tendency to bite**

During those listless moments, when the train passed through a tunnel and the sunset illuminated over Yuuri’s eyes, he’d turn away and look at Viktor’s thigh. How it stiffened under the light, the muscles under the fabric flexed and Viktor was on edge. Thumb perched between his lips, his teeth slowly grinding away at the nail that used to bother him so much. But now, the nail had been stripped back, bits of flesh poking up. Viktor hissed when he bit down too hard, and his tongue prodded over his wound. The tip of his thumb, mangled and bruised.

In that quiet moment, when Viktor was lost behind his thoughts, he blinked for a second when his thumb  _ popped  _ itself away from his lips. Down it came, like soft rain from the distance when St. Petersburg chimed its clocks for an afternoon shower. His fingers fell between the lines of Yuuri’s hand, and Yuuri held him so dearly, so tenderly, that Viktor felt as nervous as he did before. When Yuuri first approached him at the Grand Prix Banquet, hazed with champagne and with his fingers loosely between Viktor’s own. This time around, their roles were switched. Or for a moment, they relived that memory through sober eyes. Yuuri brought Viktor’s thumb close to his lips, and he kissed the wound.

The warmth settled over the thumb like a warm band-aid. Viktor gave his thanks, hiding his other hand and the mangled nails that Yuuri didn’t need to kiss. However, Yuuri wasn’t blind to what Viktor did. After spending more than a year, strapped to Viktor’s hip on the ice or in a private setting, Yuuri knew every quirk and trick programmed to Viktor’s being. He asked if he could see Viktor’s other hand, and it took some coaxing before Viktor grew brave enough. Breath hitched to the back of his throat when Yuuri touched and pressed his care against every wound and scar at Viktor’s fingertips. Yuuri didn’t have to do this. He could turn a blind-eye, pretend that he never noticed Viktor’s habit. Pretend that he didn’t understand or correlate as to why Viktor wore gloves so often, but suddenly stopped when an engagement ring fell along his ring finger. Yuuri could wear a mask and smile and tell Viktor that everything was perfect, because they were perfect.

But those were lies, and Viktor knew that Yuuri wasn’t one to lie in moments like this. Yuuri didn’t shun Viktor’s scars. All he said, while on that train ride, was that Viktor needed time to heal. Flesh-wounds never disappeared overnight, much like the insecurities that people buried beneath their surface. Just as important, Yuuri reassured Viktor that he didn’t have to hide his scars anymore.  _ If he didn’t want to. _

 

**2\. A sleep that conveys more than words**

On the couch, in the locker room at Yakov’s ice rink, or during his downtime between competitions, Viktor was often seen sleeping. Whether laying down or sitting up when he napped, his position was always the same. Bangs shielding his eyes from potential stares or bright lights. His fingers folded over, resting comfortably on his lap or near his stomach. Often times, it looked as if Viktor wasn’t breathing during those naps. But when he sneezed, it gave everyone in the room reassurance.

When asked why he slept that way, Viktor mentioned that if he died and had to be sent to morgue, at least he was in the proper position before he was laid onto a tray. Whether that was legitimate or a joke, no one pressed Viktor any further about it. It was his thing, his quirk to recharge during stressful moments. He could sleep anywhere, at any time. Simply close his eyes and ninety seconds later, he was out like a light.

There were times where Yuuri wondered if it was a coping method. For when Viktor lived on his own, it may’ve been a way to condole his heart when loneliness seemed all too-real. If he could wipe his mind from reality just as quickly as he could wake up, Viktor wouldn’t notice the cold, empty space on his bed. Viktor wouldn’t notice how he mainly bought food for one, or how daunting it seemed when he made more food than he could ever finish on his own. Yuuri noticed these things during the first few months of their marriage. How Viktor seemed content with being by himself in bed, almost afraid to venture outwards and feel a cold space underneath his fingertips.

But during those few times where Viktor felt brave, his touch met Yuuri’s. It freaked him out a few times, Viktor slipped out of sleep and realized that he wasn’t alone. Of course, the creaks on his side of the bed woke Yuuri up. His voice, lifeless and tired, reaching out in the darkness. Curious as to what startled Viktor before Yuuri blinked a few times. Viktor’s hand hovered just above his cheek, almost like a test to see if Yuuri was real or not. Yuuri held his breath, lashes tickling the bags under his eyes when Viktor rested his hand slowly. Yuuri was real. Viktor’s hand didn’t phase through and touch a cold sheet. He felt warmth, he felt skin, he felt a living and breathing person right next to him.

At the time, Yuuri didn’t understand what was the significance of that moment. Not until later on, while he and Viktor were snuggling under the sheets, Yuuri realized that Viktor wasn’t always like this in the beginning. That just like him, back in Hasetsu, touches were shy and were stepping stones to moments like this. Where Yuuri and Viktor unabashedly held each other in their sleeps, lulled by the dull harmony in which their hearts sang to.

 

**3\. Food is an Art**

Breakfast Bagel: how the cream was smeared over Viktor’s tongue when he took his first bite. After which, he examined the rest of the bagel for the next-best-bite. He repeated this tactic until all he had left was a piece fit for a single bite. Once in his mouth, Viktor licked his fingers. One by one, a satisfying  _ pop  _ floated in the kitchen. Not a crumb on his plate, and Viktor dabbed his mouth with an open napkin while Yuuri overfilled his cereal bowl with milk. Sloshes of it dripped down the kitchen counter, carrying fruity cereal and dried fruit with it. Yuuri cursed under his breath at the mess he made, and Viktor was quick to his aid. Towel rolls appearing in his arms to mop up the mess, and Yuuri patted the outside of his bowl dry. Ears tinged with red, eyes following Viktor when he bent down to wipe up the spill.

Sandwich: Viktor enjoyed his sandwiches with an open cut. A diagonal down the middle to separate his meal into two triangles. Always, the top portion of bread was seated on its throne at an angle, revealing the vegetation and the rolls of meats and cheeses that came together for a wondrous sacrifice.  _ As Viktor would put it when he tore a corner off and chewed.  _ He liked to work in seven chews per bite. Rather as a habit or a good luck charm, Yuuri found it a bit odd that he kept track of the chews when he enjoyed his own lunch. There were so many odd, little quirks about Viktor that seemed mundane. But somehow, the quirks came together to breathe life and mystery into the man Yuuri fell in love with, every day when he opened his eyes and heard Viktor’s smile. Yes, Yuuri could hear Viktor’s smile. It was a distinct sound, almost as distinct as Viktor’s chews. It was comforting, like a melody on all its own.

Filet of fish: A clink of silverware in a fine dining establishment, and Viktor tipped his glass of wine. The residue coated over his lips like lipstick before he wiped it the color off, and Yuuri realized that he was staring again. Hard not to when he and Viktor were consumed by the matters of their conversation, about possible routines for a pair-skate in the future and how Viktor wanted to perform lifts so that the world could see the love his arms would always carry. Yuuri blushed behind his glass of wine, almost choking on his sip. He patted his chest good and hard, managed to swallow with tears in his eyes. The sweet sound of laughter tickled Viktor’s ears. He sliced a chunk of salmon and plucked the bite with his fork. This was the best bite of food he had on his plate. Ignoring the meandering bites that were supposed to lead to this moment, Viktor reached across the table. His fork, poised at a comfortable position for Yuuri to lean forward and pluck the tasty bite for himself. Yuuri asked if it was okay, aware of how Viktor usually dined. Viktor nodded, whispering a sonnet meant for Yuuri’s ears only. However, Yuuri couldn’t catch the words, but he took Viktor’s offer. He slid the chunk of fish off from Viktor’s fork, chewed, and swallowed. Almost like a kiss, and Yuuri understood what Viktor meant by his gesture. Because with a table and its space separating them, how could they kiss other than by exchanging each other their best bites?

Kisses: It was that moment between the doorway, between the ice rink, between alertness and sleep, between one year to another, between love and something more, there was a narrow space between Yuuri and Viktor when a kiss dawned over them in a sudden wave. Where Yuuri’s neck and his ears glowed like the cherry blossoms that decorated Hasetsu every spring. How his smile lit like ten thousand suns on a cloudy day, and Viktor remembered a telltale bit of advice that his mother used to tell him. How he needed to savor his sweets while they lasted, but Viktor knew that Yuuri was more than a piece of chocolate or delectable bite at the end of a meal. When the gap between him and Yuuri was sealed by their lips, Viktor teased Yuuri at first before he could feel a smile pressed softly at him.

 

**4\. Privacy requires a cuckoo’s call**

Under the millions of lights installed from the ceiling, beyond the whispering curtains that used to tickle Viktor in his sleep, huddled in a nest on Viktor’s bed was Yuuri. Glasses clipped at the front of his t-shirt, browsing through a checklist of jumps he wanted to do for his next skating season. A secret routine that he kept away from Viktor’s eyes because it was meant to be a surprise, Yuuri would always tell him. Yuuri’s feet dangled from end of the bed, toes wiggling around to find a sheet to nestle against while a pillow was propped under his chin as he highlighted and made little notes for himself.

Blissfully unaware that Viktor sat by the doorway, curled on the floor with Makkachin. Murmurs inching into the room ever-so slightly, and Yuuri looked up and saw a silver silhouette of where Viktor sat. Yuuri couldn’t see Viktor, but he heard his voice. It sounded somber and an appropriate scent accompanied the tunes that whistled between Viktor’s breaths. Yuuri released his own scent, a smell that draped over Viktor’s shoulders like a tender hug or a warm blanket fresh from the drying machine. Yuuri whistled the first few notes of  _ Stammi Vicino,  _ and Viktor rose from his spot like a glass-figure rising from its music box. Makkachin trailed after Viktor, climbed up and nestled against Yuuri’s side in the nest.

Before Viktor could sit down, he asked Yuuri if it was okay for him to enter the nest. Yuuri had pushed the blankets, planted clothes like mini-cushions between sheets, by his own hands. To tread into this privacy didn’t feel right, even though this bed was originally Viktor’s. When Yuuri gave a nod, Viktor felt a weight fall off his shoulders when he slid over the nest and carefully laid next on Makkachin’s other side. Squished between her owners, Makkachin kissed Yuuri and Viktor’s faces. Stray licks came and went, and Yuuri’s nest fell apart when Makkachin dugs her paws into the sides. Sheets slid off the bed like broken ice on a river that couldn’t be tamed.

 

**5\. The world stops before you fall in love. All over again.**

Time stood still. Yuuri wasn’t sure when or how it happened.

As soon as he looked up from his leathery seat, pulling his glasses up from the cuff at his shirt, many of the people and the guests around him were fixed to their positions. Conversations halted at mid-breath, the birth of a word about to slip over the tongue. Eyes stared off to space, either wide or small with something to focus on or not. Perhaps, a face of a partner or the nagging grin of a helper when one realized that their shoes were, indeed,  _ not  _ on sale and they had to find business elsewhere. Or perhaps, some of those eyes wandering eyes gazed at the passage of changing rooms, either bearing a scowl, a fleeting gaze, admiration, or a fond stare as these individuals waited for a familiar face to pop out. At any moment, Viktor would be one of those familiar faces, but Yuuri wondered about that.

Was Viktor simply frozen, probably reaching for the door to unclasp it? Was he frozen in a mid-change, his backside exposed to the elements while switching between dress shirts? Or rather, was Viktor lost in thought with a small smile? Perhaps, thinking about Yuuri and if he was still waiting outside with a purchase in his hands? Or on the flip side, Viktor may have wondered if Yuuri had grown bored in this wait and was elsewhere, chatting with another Alpha or Omega to drag the seconds away?

Yuuri didn’t cling to any of those ideas. With time as stiff as it was now, the odds of him knowing the truth were at its ends. For the most part, Yuuri noticed that he was the only one that could move. His fingers twitched, he could breathe easily. When Yuuri poked someone’s shoulder, he felt how stiff they were. Almost as if the individual was like a mannequin, positioned in a natural way to draw curiosity. Albeit, Yuuri was the only one who could interact with the world at this state. So much to do, so much to see. Yuuri hopped onto his feet, a slight click to his heels against the soft carpet. And then, he heard a click of a door.

Emerging from one of the changing rooms, fingers running through his hair, Viktor flashed a familiar grin that had once went viral on the internet. Soft, how his lips parted so effortlessly. Casual, Viktor didn’t think twice when he polished his smile. Not for the mirrors that captured him at every angle, but for Yuuri because he saw his reflection behind the glasses and eyes of his dear mate. Yuuri almost forgot of where he was, or why he was here. The suit racks with their silk and linen disappeared from Yuuri’s peripherals, and all he saw around Viktor’s figure was blank space.

Viktor, with a gray suit that easily slipped from his shoulder when he spun around. Viktor, how the coattails followed him like the familiar violet and gold from his  _ Stammi Vicino  _ costume. Viktor, how time had paused so that Yuuri could admire Viktor. One second at a time, Yuuri vaguely remembered that he was married. Married to whom? Why, he was married to this light bulb of a man and Viktor’s million-watt smile.

If a mate could propose again, Yuuri would’ve been down on a knee. But instead, in this timeless space where infinity was just a hop and a skip away, Yuuri asked Viktor for a dance. While time hardly moved a muscle in Yuuri’s mind, he cared to waltz in real-time and bystanders watched the tender touches that brought Yuuri and Viktor together, apart, and together again because it was love at first sight.  _ Again. _

* * *

“...with that, Viktor is a vampire.” Yuuri rested his case, smiling a bit wider than usual as Phichit absorbed the past five minutes of discussion. Through the phone screen, Phichit wasn't sure if he should laugh or play along with Yuuri’s reasoning. Maybe, he could get away with both because Yuuri wore himself like an old shirt plucked from a crumpled nest.

Obvious bags under his eyes, a bloodshot gaze that looked to nowhere during the entire conversation, and speckles of bites and kisses dressed Yuuri up when he yanked at the collar of his sweater. Purple crept down his collarbone, whether Yuuri was aware of it or not when he yawned.

Phichit folded his fingers over his smile.  _ “Were you and Viktor busy last night?” _

Yuuri scratched the back of his neck, fingers unsure of where to touch because the skin burned as brightly as it did… well, Yuuri spent five minutes for almost nothing because Phichit saw through his gibberish. Even so, it felt nice having said what he did. It wasn't often where Yuuri could speak so freely about his relationship with Viktor. But when he did, Yuuri felt like he was a fan all over again and Viktor was his idol. It was strange to think of his husband like that, but Phichit reassured Yuuri that it was healthy to let it out.

_ “You've hidden your affections for years. If you hide it any longer, you might explode.”  _ Phichit mimicked the sound of a popped balloon.  _ “Do you have these talks with him?” _

“He might find it weird,” Yuuri mumbled, slouching back against the couch when Makkachin hopped up and nuzzled her cheek against his leg.

_ “Remember, this is the same man who uprooted from his hometown just to see you again.”  _ Phichit clicked his tongue, a smile teased across his lips.  _ “He's your biggest fan too.” _

“I wish I could do more so he knows how I feel…” Yuuri’s face trailed off, and his hands migrated towards his stomach. Phichit raised an eyebrow. He reached across his study desk and plucked a textbook from Detroit.

_ “Page 394 says that there are difficulties for a female Alpha to bear offspring. Impossible for a male Alpha because they lack a womb and the ‘material’ for another to fertilize.”  _ Phichit snapped his book shut.  _ “FYI, you're not pregnant.” _

“Yet.”

Laughter hissed between their teeth, Yuuri rolled onto his side while Phichit hollered in Thai that  _ this _ would be the death of him. Makkachin whined, poking her nose along Yuuri’s side. He apologized and comforted her with a few hugs before returning to his phone.

_ “Look, you don't need a child to express your love. Just be you.”  _ It was all Phichit could say before he had to sign off, return to his college studies. Even so, the words lingered in Yuuri’s mind when he slid onto his side and cuddled with Makkachin on the couch. They stayed like this, it felt like hours before one of them moved. Makkachin pushed her paw against Yuuri’s chest so that she look up comfortably and boop her nose against Yuuri’s. It brought a smile to his face. As quick as it came, as quick as it left while thoughts swirled around in his mind.

There was a click at the front door when Viktor slipped past the threshold. As soon as his shoes left his feet, Viktor sensed something odd about Yuuri’s scent. How it felt somber, like a child looking past the curtains of a window on their own. Viktor knew that feeling, all too well, when he draped himself over the couch’s top. His fingers, a few seconds away from brushing back Yuuri’s bangs. However, his fingers didn’t reach farther than they had to. Listless, frozen like a helping hand, Viktor asked if he could touch Yuuri.

_ “Please.”  _ Yuuri met the ocean behind Viktor’s eyes when his bangs were brushed away by shy fingers. Little by little, Viktor emerged from a fragment that only Yuuri could see before he was whole again. Nuzzling against Viktor’s hand, a question slipped out from Yuuri. It was a question that used to bother him before, but Yuuri managed to ignore it for so long until his insecurities were spilling at the seams.  _ “Would you be happier if I was an Omega?” _

Viktor furrowed his brows, unsure of where to begin in his answer. Yuuri as an Omega? An Omega that was his Yuuri? Those two thoughts clashed in Viktor’s mind. He asked Yuuri what this brought up, and Viktor took a seat on the couch. It sagged under his weight, but Viktor wanted to see Yuuri at a level that they were both comfortable with. As equals, not better than the other or more in control of the situation because this was a joint-effort. Yuuri voiced his thoughts. This past year of marriage has been one of the happiest years of his life so far, and Yuuri wished that he could do more. When it came to marriage, one of the first thoughts that sometimes came to mind was children. And, Yuuri knew it was silly for him to think about this because adoption and foster care was a viable option, but he felt that he and Viktor would have a stronger connection if the child was their own.

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri rested his hands over his eyes and mouth. “I can change the subject if it’s--”

“It’s a justified worry,” Viktor said. His fingers folded over his lap. “It’s a thought that has crossed many a mind when we think about how we can express our love to the person we love the most.” Just before his thumb touched the edge of his teeth, Viktor pulled it away from him and asked if he could Yuuri’s hand. With their fingers intertwined, Viktor rubbed his thumb reassuringly over the back of Yuuri’s knuckles. “I want you to remember this.”

“Hmm?” Yuuri sat up from his edge of the couch.

"My heart fell in love. Not with an Omega, Alpha, or a Beta. I fell in love with you and I wouldn't have it any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @yuuris-piano
> 
> I really enjoy incorporating emotions and gestures into my writing. I'm still learning how to mix the two together, and it makes me happy when I see the results.


End file.
